The Dark Wolf in the Lion's Den
by Sesshomaru's Babydoll
Summary: AU: Ashara Dayne's stillborn daughter lived. After the Rebellion, Ned Stark raised Brielle Snow in Winterfell along with his children and natural son. But when King Robert arrived in the North to proclaim her uncle the new Hand of the King, Brielle's life drastically changed. Some of it good and some of it very bad. The game is set. Now, she must rise or fall. A JaimexOC story.
1. Prologue

Greetings, dear readers! Thank you for stopping by to read this story. I have been a longtime fan of the HBO series "Game of Thrones," but never really was inspired to create a story for it. While I have trouble reading the book material due to not always enjoying GRRM's writing style (I haven't tried anything past the first book), I do enjoy researching different characters from the world of Westeros that are long dead when the series begins or are never mentioned except in the source material. The story of Ashara Dayne I've always found to be tragic, as well as the death of her brother, Ser Arthur Dayne.

I started reading more into the Tourney of Harrenhall and Ser Barristan Selmy's account of how Ashara was dishonored by a man there. There are some theories floating around as to who this was and I am more of the opinion it might have been the Wild Wolf, Brandon Stark. I theorize that Ned was quite taken with Ashara and while his brother was not free to wed her, Ned would have taken up the responsibility and offered himself as a husband for the lady. However, Lyanna's abduction changed everything.

Selmy talked about how Ashara gave birth to a stillborn daughter and she committed suicide in part due to grief for her lost child. This is a story based on the premise that the child lived, but was weak and believed to die within her first year of life. Ashara could have easily struggled with post-partum depression, and the death of her brother Arthur at the hands of the man she may have come to love was enough to bring about her suicide.

Blaming himself, Ned asked to be allowed to raise Ashara's daughter as his own as was supposed to happen and brings the child back with him to Winterfell along with a newborn Jon Snow. From there, the story progresses.

Please note: There will be some explicit smut scenes here and there, although most such activities will be hinted at throughout the story instead. This is meant to be a drama and romance with a heavy dose of the importance of family. The smut is not the main focus of the plot. Also, this is heavily a show inspired story, but some elements from the books may come into play.

For any previous readers of my work stopping by, I am working on revising and completing previously posted chapters of my other stories. You can thank a rude anonymous reviewer telling me to kill myself. He/she pissed me off so much I decided to start writing again. Those will hopefully be out soon as well.

Now, please sit back and enjoy the ride as we follow the story of Brielle Snow, bastard child of Ashara Dayne and Brandon Stark.

General Disclaimer: All rights belong to HBO and George RR Martin. I make no profit from this story. All OCs are my creative children.

 **Prologue**

For as long as Brielle could remember, she had a very clear understanding that life was not fair.

By the age of five, she understood she was a bastard and that both her mother and father were long gone from the world of the living. Her uncle could not love her as openly as he wished and his wife, the Lady Stark, scorned Brielle for being a reminder that her former betrothed was not as honorable as she'd once believed.

As time went on, the stigma of her birth became more apparent as those among the good society of Westeros made it very clear they would never stop looking down upon her. Nor would she ever be an acceptable match for marrying into a powerful house to create an alliance that would strengthen her father's family. There was a chance her mother's people of Dorne would provide better luck for a brighter future, but Brielle never held on to much hope for that.

Then, not long after her return from spending a few years in Dorne living with those who remained of House Dayne, life reminded Brielle just how unfair and cruel it could be. Her uncle, Lord Eddard Stark, had petitioned to his childhood friend, King Robert Baratheon, to make Brielle legitimate. He desired for the name Snow to be cast aside for that of Stark. The king had agreed and her uncle presented the decree to Brielle on her fourteenth nameday. She could see how happy he was by the proclamation. After all, had Brandon Stark not been killed by the Mad King she never would have bared the burden of being a bastard. She would have grown up believing Eddard Stark to be her father should he have been allowed to marry Ashara Dayne as planned. But the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark and the ensuing rebellion changed all of that. Her uncle never spoke of what should have been, but she had learned much in Dorne. Brielle often found herself wishing as the years went on that those plans had come to pass.

However, in the face of the king's decree she was forced to hide her horror to Lord Stark. She couldn't allow him to realize his gift did nothing to bring her joy. Brielle had long ago resigned herself to either a horrible match or never marrying, with the latter seeming much more likely as time went on. So, she had devised a plan for her life. As soon as she was old enough, she would set out from Winterfell, traveling the world as a sellsword. Or perhaps she would find a lord or lady who could appreciate her services. After all, from a young age Brielle had been told how gifted and blessed she was with a sword. It was cause for great astonishment because she was a girl. While living at Starfall, her Aunt Allyria had once remarked how much it was like watching her older brother Arthur fighting in the training yards as a squire.

But these plans were dashed as soon as Brielle became legitimate. She was now a Stark. Incapable of inheriting unless all of her cousins died, but a Stark nonetheless.

Brielle had smiled and thanked her uncle, all the while inside she could only scream and cry. He truly thought he had done her a kindness and by the all rights he had. Therefore, she could never tell him the truth.

Then, her relationship with Jon suffered. Out of the two of them, Jon Snow had always hoped his father would make him a Stark. It was one of the few things he had ever wished for. Instead, Brielle was raised from a bastard while Jon was left to continue on, enduring the never ending scorn of Lady Stark for being of her husband's seed. He had hated Brielle, told her as much in anger and for weeks would neither speak nor look at her. Brielle's heart continued to break and her dismay at the king's decree turned to bitterness.

It wasn't until offers of marriage started to flow in and Brielle's fear at the prospect became visible that Jon started to relent. Slowly their relationship had rebuilt, but it was never truly quite the same. It was no longer the two of them, the Stark bastards, against the rest of the world. Now, they were Brielle Stark and Jon Snow; the dark beauty of the North and the bastard of Winterfell. Life truly was unfair and cruel.

Such ruminations circled Brielle's head as she departed from the Godswood. She had been wandering the wood after some self-reflection amongst the Old Gods when she'd noticed the entrance of her uncle, the Stark family great sword Ice in his hands. He and a group of the men had traveled to deliver justice to a deserter of the Night's Watch. Her cousins, Robb and Jon, had gone along with Lord Stark's ward, Theon Greyjoy. It had been deemed time for young Bran to accompany the riding party as well. Brielle felt nothing but sorrow for the loss of a part of Bran's innocence that day. However, as her uncle had stated before departing when she questioned his decision, Bran would not be a boy forever.

Brielle didn't say a word as she left, leaving Lord Stark to his own contemplation among the trees and the Old Gods. It was his ritual after he was forced to take up the mantle of Warden of the North to deliver the justice of the law. She would never envy her uncle his burden and responsibility.

"Brielle!"

Her head of thick black waves turned toward the sound with curiosity. Bran Stark was running toward her with great excitement. The young woman smiled at her cousin's energy.

"Yes Bran?" she inquired as he drew near.

Immediately her eyes landed on the wriggling mass of fur in the boy's arms. A black eyebrow rose in question.

Bran grinned. "You'll never believe what we found! A female direwolf was killed by a stag she was hunting and her body was lying just a little off the road."

Both of Brielle's eyebrows were now raised, this time in astonishment.

"She really was as big as Old Nan's stories say," Bran continued. "The size of a small pony practically. And then, we found her pups close by. They had no one to look after them and the men thought it best to have the litter killed, but Jon convinced Father to let us keep them instead." He stroked the head of the direwolf pup in his arms as the creature tried to lick his face.

Brielle didn't really know what to say. She could only stare at the creature many believed to be long gone, even beyond the Wall. Without thinking, her right hand started to reach for the pup.

"Can I hold him? Is it a him?" she asked.

"How about you hold your own?"

Both Bran and Brielle turned to look at a smiling Jon Snow, currently holding two direwolf pups in his arms. One was white as freshly fallen snow, the other a light cream with hints of tan and grey throughout the coat. The white pup remained quiet and docile in Jon's arms. However, the cream colored pup was wriggling to get free. Brielle couldn't help but laugh at the little creature's spirit. Jon let the restless pup down, who immediately ran over to the young woman's feet.

The creature sniffed her boots thoroughly, then sat on its haunches and looked up. A beautiful pair of intelligent golden brown eyes stared into her own haunting violet. In that moment, Brielle knew she had a companion for life. She bent down and picked up the now quiet pup. It reached for her face and gently gave a lick on her chin. A loving smile and a scratch behind the ears was the pup's reward.

"So, is it a boy or a girl?" She looked to Jon for an answer.

"There are four males and three females. Seems the last girl chose you," he replied.

Brielle's brow furrowed in thought as she looked down at her direwolf pup. A name was needed, but what would do?

Jon motioned for Brielle and Bran to follow him into the keep to make for the great hall, where the others were likely already starting to gather for the midday meal. As she walked, Brielle continued to think on a name for the pup. She truly was a bright little thing, both in color and intelligence, or so Brielle liked to think after such a short amount of time for the two to become acquainted. The pup let out a large yawn as her mistress walked inside.

Then, the once northern bastard smiled as the perfect name came to mind. She would even be honoring her mother's family with it. "Dawn. You are the bright new dawn, my friend."

Dawn let out a soft yip and licked her mistress' hand, confirming her name was a most excellent choice.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited so far! You guys made me smile seeing how a small taste garnered such positive feedback. We are finally into real chapter lengths. They will vary, but I do tend to write longer chapters. Not huge, but definitely longer than what the prologue was.

Also, perspective will change throughout chapters more often than not. Overall, those perspectives will be of Brielle and Jaime, but there will be others here and there when it is most important to the plot.

In general, I will be aiming to post on Sundays. As I am posting this chapter earlier than that, do not expect another by the end of the weekend. Stranger things have happened but unfortunately I can't spend all of my free time glued to the computer writing. The next two chapters are fully written, but still must be typed and edited, along with creating new material at the same time for what is coming after.

A quick note to the reviewer "Guest": Thank you for mentioning and, in essence, reminding me how much Jaime respected and admired Ser Arthur. It helped in writing what I think is a better representation of his character here and in future chapters than what I originally had planned :)

This is my first attempt writing Jaime. I am incorporating what I have taken away from Nikolaj Coster-Waldau's performance on the show and other fanfics I believe have captured his personality in writing. If you feel something is not right or doesn't fit, please feel free to contact me and I will take your suggestions into consideration moving forward.

Again, thank you for reading!

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 **Chapter 1**

The last few weeks had thrown all of Winterfell into a blur of activity. Not long after Brielle and the rest of the Stark children had received their direwolf pups, a raven arrived from King's Landing. The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, had passed and King Robert was now currently travelling for Winterfell along with the royal family. A Baratheon rider had galloped into the courtyard early this morning announcing the king's impending arrival. The royal party was expected around midday.

Personally, Brielle wished they weren't coming at all. A slight feeling of dread had slowly settled into her stomach as the days wore on. It had made for some very intense sparring sessions in the training yard and a lengthy lecture from Ser Rodrick. The Master-at-Arms may have taken up her training after discovering her cousins were teaching Brielle in secret, but he would not tolerate such unnecessary force under his watch. Brielle had been properly chastised and had taken to spending hours in the saddle instead.

 _Not that Lady Stark would allow any of us to leave the grounds today. If I could, I'd ride for the Wolfswood and come back only after the royal party was gone. We do not need so many southerners in the North._

A soft yip caught the young woman's attention, drawing her eyes away from the hallway window. She smiled down at her little pup. Dawn had grown nearly triple in size over the course of a few weeks and was her constant shadow, just as the other direwolf pups were with their masters and mistresses.

Another yip escaped Dawn as she suddenly ran forward to greet her unnamed sibling as the pup and Bran came running around the corner. His eyes were lit up with excitement as he came to an abrupt stop in front of his cousin. Brielle put her arms out to help steady the boy.

"And where are you running off to in such a hurry?" she asked with a laugh.

If it was possible, Bran's eyes lit up even more. "The king's almost here! I spotted the royal party just down the road."

Brielle's stomach lurched, but she managed to keep her discomfort from showing. _He's so excited. I can't take that away from him. There's no need for him to worry about our visitors too. I'm sure that I and most of the adults are doing a fine enough job of that._

She smoothed down his windswept hair and gave the boy an infectious grin. "Well, we'd best grab our cloaks and hurry to the yard then, shouldn't we?"

He nodded, although his face fell slightly. "Mother says the direwolves must be locked up in the Godswood for now."

Brielle could see the sense in her aunt's decision, even if she didn't like it. "Then we must move as fast as Grey Wind. It wouldn't do to be late for the king. Besides, I do believe your mother would have our hides if we were."

Bran laughed and the two were off. They dashed to their rooms for their cloaks, then made quick work of dropping off the pups at the Godswood. Brielle could tell Dawn was not happy about the arrangement, but submitted to her mistress' order to stay put and not make a fuss.

Soon enough, all of Winterfell was standing and awaiting the king's arrival in the courtyard. Even Arya managed to make it to her place in line before the royal party started pouring in. However, she was relieved of the helmet on her head by an exasperated Lord Stark. Most who saw the incident either chuckled or smiled. Brielle, Jon and Theon were among that number. The three were standing behind the Lord and Lady Stark's family, with Brielle in between the two. Even after the king's decree made her legitimate, her place was still between them; her cousin and the man who once could have held her heart if only he hadn't been so stupid.

She glanced at the kraken. Even now, she knew he regretted his choices from two years ago. His eyes and actions told her as much every single day. But they both knew it would never change what had happened. It was why Theon had refused Lord Stark's proposal of a match between him and Brielle last year. Brielle deserved a better match and a man that she could love, he'd said. Her uncle had certainly been surprised, but had not pushed the issue. Thankfully, the matter was never brought up again. Instead the two chose to remain friends, even if Brielle struggled to trust him as she once did.

Movement at Winterfell's portcullis diverted Brielle's attention to the present once more. Finally, the royal party had arrived. And what an entrance it was.

Mounted soldiers and knights entered in great numbers ahead of an unseemly large wheelhouse. Brielle assumed it housed the queen and her children. She struggled not to look on the elaborate carriage with disdain.

 _Such delicate southern flowers. If they stay too long, I am sure the cold of the North will make them shrivel up and weep._ Her mouth twitched in suppressed humor.

Behind the wheelhouse rode in more mounted men, as well as a very rounded black haired and bearded beast of a man. Her uncle knelt when this rider entered, as did everyone else. Brielle realized this was the king. Again, she struggled not to show her disdain. This was supposed to be the same man who led a rebellion against the dragons? Who killed Rhaegar Targaryen with a single blow to the chest with his war hammer? No, this was nothing more than a mockery of the great warrior Robert Baratheon had once been. Brielle could only feel disappointment at what her uncle's friend had turned into. The childish wonder from the stories she enjoyed in her youth of such a man had now turned to ashes in her mouth.

The king rode forward and dismounted his poor horse. It was a big beast but even the creature's back must feel relief from its heavy burden. He strode forward with purpose and came to a stop before Lord Stark, who rose at His Grace's gesture. The residents of Winterfell followed their lord's lead and rose as well. The courtyard was completely quiet except for the sound of their guests' horses snorting and the sound of shifting armor.

"Your Grace," Lord Stark greeted.

King Robert looked very serious and stern as he inspected his old friend. "You got fat," he declared. A moment of shock and unease ran through everyone until the tension was broken by the king and Lord Stark's laughter. They embraced and everyone relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief.

As the king greeted the Starks, Brielle noticed the rest of what must be the royal family and a few handmaidens disembarking the wheelhouse. A woman with light golden blonde hair, who was all wrapped up in furs, stepped in front of the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

 _This must be the queen. She certainly holds herself like royalty. Or is that simply the way all lions carry themselves?_ Queen Cersei Baratheon of House Lannister, the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms. Or so it was said. Brielle was not convinced. She believed her cousin Sansa held a greater beauty than that of the woman looking upon their home with barely withheld distaste.

As her uncle and estranged aunt greeted the queen, Brielle felt a prickling along her skin. It was the feeling of being watched. She scanned those newly arrived. Surprisingly, the culprit was easy to find.

A knight with golden armor, a white cloak and hair the same spun gold as the queen stared at Brielle. His unnerving gaze created a strange disquiet in her stomach, very different from what she had felt since learning of the king's impending arrival. When he realized she was staring back at him, an obnoxious and self-satisfied smirk split his lips.

 _So, this is the Kingslayer. Ser Jaime Lannister._ Brielle's face remained impassive while the lion continued to smirk. The air of superiority he exhibited in that moment did nothing to impress her. A shame, really. Brielle had hoped to speak with him, if only to learn of his experiences fighting and serving alongside her dead uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne. After holding his gaze a few more moments, she turned her head, dismissing his presence.

Yet for a time after, she could still feel his eyes upon her. She busied herself with thoughts of the feast to come that night. It'd certainly be a grand and boisterous affair. Much more lively than what the courtyard was now.

It wasn't until Lady Stark started to direct people in order to get the royal party settled that Brielle looked back to where he stood. But the Kingslayer was gone.

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 _It's like looking at a ghost._

Very few things surprised Jaime anymore, but seeing the grown up daughter of Ashara Dayne and Brandon Stark was one of them. The girl truly looked like Ashara reborn. However, there were hints of the Wild Wolf too. Her face was not as delicate as her mother's, or her body for that matter. Where Ashara had been almost willowy, her daughter had meat on her bones and was pleasingly bosomed. Jaime was certain that if she wasn't Ned Stark's niece, the king would likely cast his eyes on her. That was a fate he only wished on the whores the selfish bastard paid.

Jaime was also surprised at how tall the girl was. She had come from tall stock on both sides, so it really shouldn't have been a shock. Although it was quite amusing to see how the girl towered over or was equal to that of a good many of the men. He'd wager she could meet his eyes with little effort.

While he would readily admit he had not looked forward to traveling to Winterfell only to spend an undetermined amount of time amongst the Starks, Jaime had harbored a small curiosity to see the niece of Ser Arthur Dayne. Seventeen years ago, word spread like wildfire when Ned Stark took the frail one year old bastard child of his older brother from Dorne to raise in the North. Of course, there were those who believed the girl truly another bastard of the current Lord of Winterfell, but Jaime knew better. He'd accidentally overheard a private conversation between Ser Arthur and Princess Elia about the knight's sister not long after the Tourney at Harrenhal. He knew the girl came from the Wild Wolf's seed.

Suddenly, those haunting violet eyes met his green, as if she knew someone was watching her. An unnerving jolt went through him. For a moment Jaime was transported back to King's Landing over eighteen years ago, a newly anointed knight and prior to his ascension to the Kingsguard. He remembered meeting those same eyes for the first time in the throne room. And now he saw them reflected in someone else.

Then, the spell her violet gaze had cast was broken as the girl's eyes moved as if to take him in. The movement was small and the perusal quick, but he saw it all the same. Jaime couldn't stop himself from smirking. He wondered what the girl thought as she looked at him, at the man everyone called Kingslayer as if he couldn't hear. Unless if it was Robert of course. Jaime could almost believe the man he guarded as his king didn't know his name with the regularity the oaf called him by that vile moniker.

Their gazes met once more before her head turned away, dismissing his presence. Jaime felt his smirk strain. _Another wolf judging the lion. Perhaps you're more like dear old Ned after all, little wolf._

After the king and Stark made for the crypts, Cersei approached him, her distaste for her surroundings clear to read for her twin. She came close and spoke in a hushed tone. "Where is our brother?"

At his nonchalant shrug, Cersei's lips tightened ever so slightly. "Go and find the little beast. I don't need him making a fool out of the Lannister name more than his mere existence already does." And with that his queen walked away.

Thankfully, Jaime did have an idea where Tyrion was, so finding him shouldn't prove too difficult. After all, with his brother's habits and tastes, it was usually best to start with the closest brothel. He gave the girl with violet eyes one more glance before mounting his horse and riding out of Winterfell as everyone else began to help settling the royal party in.

 _Brielle Stark, formerly a bastard and my unasked for future bride._ Jaime shook his head in annoyance. First, the woman he loved was bedded and abused by the man he called king. Now, that same king and his own father planned to saddle him with this girl from the North. Sometimes, the gods truly were cruel.

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That evening, Brielle was finishing with her hair for the feast when a soft knock came at her door. A recently freed Dawn raised her head from where she lay on Brielle's bed and flicked an ear toward the room's entrance.

"Brielle, may I come in?" Asked her uncle's slightly muffed voice.

Her brows furrowed in surprise. Lord Stark rarely visited her room, and those few times were usually instances that foreboded nothing good. Often it was bad news or a lecture for something she had done.

"One moment," she called. The young woman quickly finished the braid she had been working on and rose to open the door.

When she gazed at her uncle on the other side, she immediately knew something was very wrong. Despite his attempt to hide it, Brielle could see it in his eyes. There was a storminess hinting to troubled thoughts that had not been there earlier. The young woman could only wonder what transpired between her lord uncle and the king down in the crypts.

He walked in and led her over to the bed to sit. He took a seat right after, leaving Dawn between the two as the direwolf watched closely. Unconsciously, he reached out and started to stroke the pup's fur as he attempted to speak. Brielle only felt her unease grow.

"Uncle," she started. His eyes met hers. With a fortifying breath, she continued. "What has you so troubled? I've never known you to be like this unless it is something horrific."

His eyes softened as he observed his niece. After another moment to collect his thought, Lord Stark spoke. "The king's arrival has brought many demands that cause my troubling thoughts, sweet girl. The foremost, and his true reason for coming, is to ask if I would accept to be named Hand of the King."

When he didn't continue, Brielle had to forcibly shake herself from her shock in order to speak. "You do not wish to accept?"

Her uncle sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face in weariness. "In truth, I am not sure. I have no desire to leave Winterfell or my family, but I believe Robert when he says he needs me." He paused, then caught Brielle's gaze again. "There's more."

Brielle sensed that whatever he was about to say had something to do with her. It was the only explanation for his presence in her room this night. Her uncle had never sought her council or advice on the workings of the North. She could not see why he would start now.

"The king has also delivered two proposals of marriage for our family," he informed her, his eyes turning apologetic as he spoke. "Robert wishes to join our houses by marriage through Prince Joffery and Sansa."

 _Thank the gods_. While Brielle did not like the thought of Sansa marrying the Crown Prince, she was grateful it was not her that the king had chosen. The little of Joffery she witnessed so far gave the impression of a self-centered spoiled brat. Perhaps he would grow out of it, which would be for the good of the realm, but Brielle had no desire to risk being married to such a man, particularly one two years younger than herself. He truly looked like such a boy in comparison to her cousins and Theon.

 _So, who am I to marry?_ She held her uncle's gaze, working very hard to keep her voice even in order to not give away her unease. "And what of the other proposal?"

Brielle could see he struggled to say the words. Was it truly so distasteful? "The king has been in contact with Tywin Lannister in recent months, who has given his consent to this match."

Sudden panic gripped Brielle. _I'm to marry the Old Lion?! He's old enough to be my grandfather!_

Lord Stark must have seen something of her panic for he reached over and took her hands in his. "Fear not, sweet girl. I'd never consent to marry you or any of your cousins to a man as old as he."

The fear gripping Brielle lessened its hold, but only just. "But it is a match proposed with House Lannister?"

He nodded. "A few months before he died, Jon Arryn suggested a marriage joining House Lannister and House Stark in order to create better blood between us. Robert has agreed it is a good idea."

Despite her own despair at the thought of marrying a lion, the logical part of her brain could see the sense of the match. For years there had been tension between the lions of the South and the wolves of the North. Brielle had never asked why, but assumed Tywin Lannister and his eldest son's actions at the end of the rebellion were partly to blame.

 _Now the king has decided I will be the offering of peace for our two houses. Wonderful._

At her silence, Lord Stark began to talk once more. "Robert has agreed to release Jaime Lannister from the Kingsguard and to return to Tywin his heir on the condition that Ser Jaime marry you."

Brielle finally understood the dread she had felt since it was announced the king rode for the North. She could say nothing. Her tongue was tied and her body felt numb in the face of this shocking and honestly quite scandalous news. A man could not be simply released from the Kingsguard. Their vows were taken for life. The only way a knight could end his service was with his death. Yet as it was the king's personal guard, perhaps it made sense he could do with it as he wished. The thought did not make Brielle feel any better.

Suddenly, Jaime's face from earlier in the courtyard came to mind. The smugness and arrogance he exuded in spades. It helped to break the numbness gripping her, allowing annoyance and anger to spark to life in its place. All of this was possible because her uncle had petitioned the king to make her legitimate. What was being forced upon her now was his fault.

Yet when she turned her accusing eyes upon him, Brielle was struck by the look of grief and anger that consumed his gray gaze. He did not want this either and blamed himself. The hatred that had just consumed her immediately dissipated. He had not asked for this, nor did he want it for her.

He gripped her hands harder. "I am so sorry, Brielle. If I had known this would happen, I would have pushed for the match between you and Theon. Or accepted one of the many proposals for your hand from the northern lords. But now it is too late."

Tears began to prick at her eyes hearing the sorrow in her uncle's voice. "Is it truly too late? There must be something you can do, Uncle."

Lord Stark shook his head. "Believe me, I tried. It is why the king and I spent so much time in the crypts. I argued against the match, even begged Robert to consider a different Lannister at the very least. One closer to your age and with more honor." Her uncle sighed. "However, he would not hear any of it. His mind is set and nothing I say will change that. I believe the fact that the queen is so enraged by the match has something to do with Robert's resolve."

Brielle withdrew her hands from his and stood, wrapping her arms around her torso. "I've wished it before in the last three years and I wish it now more than ever. That you had never asked the king to grant me legitimacy," she whispered.

Large and rough hands gently grasped her shoulders, turning her around. Her uncle's face was solemn, his eyes still holding grief for what his friend had all but decreed. "No, Brielle. That is one thing in this life I will never regret. Your mother would never have forgiven me if I had allowed you to remain a bastard all your life. And I never would have forgiven myself."

"Yet Jon is still a Snow," she accused.

His eyes clouded over and Brielle could tell her uncle was uncomfortable with the charge. She had made it years ago when her relationship with Jon was at its worst. It was obvious the accusation still stung.

"Someday, when the time is right, I will tell you why I never asked Robert to make Jon a Stark," he told her.

Well, that was at least better than his silence and stony look the last time she'd spoken of it. _Perhaps when next I say it he'll actually explain his reasons_. Brielle could only hope.

"I don't want to marry him," Brielle declared.

Her uncle nodded, his expression changing to one of understanding and sympathy. "I know, Brielle. But the king has all but decreed the match. He plans to have your betrothal announced tonight at the feast."

The young woman almost shuddered at the thought.

Her uncle's grip on her shoulders tightened, commanding her attention. Her violet eyes met his gray. "Brielle, this match **will** happen, unless Robert should suddenly change his mind, which I sincerely doubt. However, understand that I am not simply throwing you into the lion's den. You are a Stark, a wolf of the North. Never forget that. You are kind and brave and strong, and Jaime Lannister is a fool if he thinks to rule over you."

Brielle's brow furrowed. "But he is to be my lord husband. The law allows him to rule over me."

For the first time since entering her room, Lord Stark smiled. "Then you shall have to show him otherwise. You are to be the future Lady of Casterly Rock and Wardeness of the West. You are born with the blood of the First Men and belong to the Houses of Stark and Dayne. And you are honorable, dear niece. Perhaps you can make the Lannisters a house with honor once again."

Brielle snorted at the thought, but nodded she understood all the same. Maybe she could help to change the image of House Lannister. She still despaired at having to marry the Lion's heir, but it could be one good thing to come from this marriage. Not only that, she would one day help rule over the Westerlands.

 _I've never wanted to rule. That has long been Sansa's dream._

Yet Sansa would rule, as Queen no less, and Robb would one day become the Warden of the North. All while Brielle helped to rule in the West. This revelation made the young woman pause. With this arrangement, House Stark would hold a greater power and influence throughout all of Westeros for the first time. They could help to shape the future and secure a lasting peace in the Seven Kingdoms.

 _Maybe I should be thanking the king rather than damning him._ She may be forced into this marriage, but Brielle would not waste this opportunity. She would simply have to make the best of it. After all, the peace and prosperity of the realm was more important than her personal desires. Brielle knew this, even if it felt unfair. However, she would do her duty, for the good of the realm.

To her uncle's surprise, Brielle hugged him. After a moment, he returned the gesture. They stayed that way for a time. Finally, Brielle stepped out of her uncle's arms. She gave him a small smile, even if she was not truly happy. The last few minutes had brought on an array of emotions in such a short amount of time. Now, she was left with a begrudging acceptance to her fate.

"Thank you, Uncle." She took his right hand in hers. "Not just for now, but for everything. You have always done your best by me, even though I am not your own. I will always be thankful for it. You truly are a man of honor and justice, and I can only hope to emulate such qualities when I face the burden of ruling."

He squeezed her hands in encouragement. "You will, Brielle. I have no doubt of that." Lord Stark let go of her hands and stepped back, making his way for the door. "I will leave you to finish getting ready. But please, keep the news of the betrothal to yourself for now."

"I will." As she said those words, Brielle wasn't entirely sure she meant them. She wanted to talk to Robb, Jon and Theon about it, especially Robb. She knew if she explained the good that could come from this alliance he'd be more receptive to it. Certainly, he still wouldn't like it, the same as she, but he'd tolerate it for the sake of the realm. She also wanted to make sure that neither of them decided to do something stupid due to their feelings on the betrothal. It did not take a great imagination to think of a few possible scenarios her cousins and the kraken could find themselves in. However, her uncle's raised eyebrows at her quick response made Brielle realize he had an idea of what she was thinking. She smiled sheepishly.

Her uncle started to open the door when an idea came to the young woman.

"Uncle," she called to him. He paused, looking over his shoulder questioningly. "If I am to be forced to marry Jaime Lannister, then I have one condition."

His brows rose again, this time in surprise. "What condition is that?"

For the first time since her uncle arrived at her door, Brielle felt a spark of happiness and control over the situation she found herself in. This was her first step in making her marriage work. "We must be married here in the Godswood. I will accept a ceremony in the Light of the Seven with a septon should that be desired, but I will not give my vows in a sept."

A proud look overcame Lord Stark in that moment. A small smile played on his lips as he nodded. "I will speak with Robert. I am sure we can arrange it. And it would make me happier to see it so."

With that, her uncle departed, leaving Brielle alone with her thoughts and Dawn for company. She glanced at the direwolf pup, who sat on the bed watching Brielle with perplexed eyes. Dawn tilted her head, as if asking a question. Her mistress sighed, then walked over and scratched the pup's head.

"In less than a day so much has changed. I fear even more change is coming and very soon, my friend."

Dawn made a soft noise, as if to say she agreed. It did nothing to make Brielle feel better at the uncertain future looming ahead.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N** : I'm sorry for the delay in posting the next chapter. I was plagued with computer problems, family issues, holidays and most recently a bad stomach flu. What makes it all worse is the fact I've had a draft written in my notebook for weeks. One silver lining: with my computer being down for so long, I at least got drafts written for the next eight chapters :)

Side note: In case anyone is wondering, in the scheme of height for people in Westeros, I am going to be using the heights of the actors and actresses used in the show, unless camera work has been used to make someone look taller than they are in real life. For Brielle, she will measure somewhere around 5'10" or 5'11" in comparison to Jaime's 6'2".

Now, please enjoy!

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 **Chapter 2**

Every member of the Stark family and the royal party were gathering outside of the doors to the great hall. And Jaime Lannister watched it all in utter boredom. Tyrion had yet to make it back from the brothel and Jaime was left to his own devices. The southern knight found himself leaning against a wall, observing the others as they waited for the king and Lord Stark to arrive.

 _Amazing how rude it is to make the king wait, yet the drunk bastard can arrive whenever the mood strikes._

A soft set of footsteps interrupted Jaime's thoughts before they could sour his mood anymore. The lion looked to his left and found the unwitting source for most of his current problems.

"Lady Brielle," he greeted.

Her violet eyes inspected him with a small hint of interest. "Ser Jaime."

Belatedly, he realized he should take hold of and kiss her hand as was expected of him when meeting a lady. However, the girl grasped her hands so tightly together in front of her that Jaime did not think his inaction would be frowned upon. So, he did nothing but inspect his future wife more closely in the torchlight.

She truly was a beautiful thing. The Dark Beauty of Winterfell, he'd heard said the further they traveled north. Jaime could admit his future wife looked quite fetching in her dark green gown with those black curls of hers braided back from her face, expect for a few stray wisps that would not be tamed. If his heart wasn't already Cersei's, Jaime wondered if there was any chance for the two of them to find at least some happiness together. Even if he was twice her age.

"I see you're enjoying yourself immensely so far," Brielle stated.

Jaime raised a brow. Surely she jested. Then, he saw the traces of amusement dancing in those violet orbs, the hint of a grin pulling at the corners of her plump mouth.

His own lips formed an amused and mocking smirk. "I'm afraid I'm used to more….refined affairs. I know nothing of Northern ways, except for what they speak of in hushed tones. Tell me, will the men be fornicating with their women for all to see and their brats rolling on the floor with the dogs eating scraps?"

Any hint of amusement fled the lady's countenance. Already her hackles were being raised as she assessed him. Jaime found a sick pleasure in knowing he had thrown her plans of making him sweet on her into disarray. Why else would she have sought him out before their betrothal was even announced? And without a proper introduction no less. _The lion has made the first strike. What will you do now, little wolf?_

Brielle's eyes were now as cold as the air outside the hall. "I assure you ser, that refined entertainment such as what can be found in the South will be hard for you to find here. True, we are a rowdier lot, but I would much prefer to endure the boisterous and wild nature of the North over the false pretenses and shiny veneer of the Southern courts."

His smirk deepened. _Mouthy little thing. And opinionated._ "You wound me, my lady. I ask to know if the rumors I have heard are true and you can only find it fitting to belittle our Southern customs. Surely a learned young lady such as yourself can find something good about the South as well as admit to a fault of the North?"

"Of course, ser," she replied, her eyes giving the impression her opinion of him was still quickly plummeting. "But here in the North, such is obvious. From what I have heard and seen for myself, such things in the South only become clear by the time it is too late." Suddenly, a thoughtful expression took hold of Brielle's face. "Although, there is one good thing I can admit about the South. Thankfully, the South has lemons. I have loved lemons cakes ever since I was very small. The time spent with my mother's family at Starfall made the delicacy my favorite and I admit to having them almost every day during my stay. Here in the North they are a much rarer treat to be had, which is shame. Whenever we are lucky enough to have some, I must always fight Sansa for the most pieces."

Jaime stared at the girl, his amusement rising. "Are you always this honest and opinionated?"

Brielle shrugged her shoulders, something he had never actually witnessed a lady do. "It depends on the company. I tend to enjoy observing others rather than be the center of attention. It comes from having spent so many years as a bastard. Even after holding the name of Stark these last three years, I've still yet to grow out of it. My cousin Jon is much the same, albeit the more somber version."

Jaime looked around for the boy, but he did not see the bastard of Winterfell moping about the hall.

"He isn't here, Ser Jaime." Brielle's eyes clouded over as she spoke with a hint of bitterness, adding to the cold expression that had taken residence upon her features once more. "Lady Stark did not think it wise to sit a bastard in the midst of the royal family, even if it were only to sit at one of the lower tables as he usually would at such feasts."

That bitterness was very telling. Hmm, something he could continue needling her with. His betrothed truly was making this burdensome affair more entertaining. "You don't agree? I'm shocked, Lady Brielle. Your aunt is the Lady of Winterfell. Surely it is uncalled for to question how Lady Stark runs her home."

Those lovely violet eyes hardened, pinning him with an intense stare of contempt. "It is Jon's home as well."

"But he is a bastard. Surely it is to be expected? After all, it was rather cruel of dear old Ned to ask his wife to help raise the child of the other woman he decided to fuck while playing at war."

If she could strike him without causing a scene Jaime knew she would. He could feel it, see it as she held her body tense, her eyes now blazing with a contained rage. Silence stretched between them as Jaime waited to see how his future wife would respond.

She didn't disappoint. In fact, she completely surprised him. "You forget yourself, Lannister. You are in the home of Lord Stark, personal friend to the king and very likely the future Hand as well. His Grace may have decided that we are to be wed, but I will be damned if I allow you to speak of my family in such a way, especially within their own halls. In the morning I expect to see you in the training yard with your sword. If you have any honor to speak of, that is."

That was nowhere near anything Jaime had been expecting. "Your honor is so wounded you would challenge a member of the Kingsguard to a bout?"

His words did nothing to dissuade her, the lady's eyes burning with their challenge. "Yes."

Jaime couldn't help himself. He laughed, his amusement causing him to nearly double over. And to succeed in catching the attention of every person in the vicinity. This included the newly arrived King Robert and Lord Stark.

"Glad to see the two of you getting along already," the king remarked, his face wearing its perpetual flush from drink. "Kingslayer! You'll be escorting the Lady Brielle in. Now, let's get this bloody feast started, shall we?"

Everyone paired up as Lady Catelyn instructed and formed a line of procession. Jaime and Brielle were still needed for it to be complete. But Jaime had to settle something first. He looked to his bride-to-be and finally replied in all mock seriousness. "I accept your challenge, Lady Brielle, for the honor of House Stark."

She nodded, her face now a mask of impassivity. Jaime extended his arm for her to take as they waited to follow the others in. After all, he hadn't completely forgotten his manners. "Shall we?"

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Keeping her hand upon the Kingslayer's arm as they proceeded into the great hall was one of the hardest tasks Brielle had ever undertaken. She would much rather her hand made contact with his face. Perhaps add an additional bump from a bad break to that nose of his, which even now kept the knight's face from appearing too perfect.

As she silently seethed, Brielle managed to keep hold of her impassive mask, the one she had worn for years when she was merely the other bastard of Winterfell. There was no reason anyone else needed to know what was truly going on.

If any of the men of her family found out she had challenged the knight currently considered the best sword in the realm, the young woman knew she would never be allowed to follow through. Brielle herself still couldn't quite believe she had laid down the call for swords. Nerves fluttered in her belly at the very thought of her actions. But she had to do it. The honor of House Stark demanded it and she would not allow the man who was to be her husband to ever think he could insult those she loved without consequence. Furthermore, Brielle wanted to make sure he respected her. His actions and words so far this evening had proved he did not. Well, he would after tomorrow.

 _I doubt he respects anyone or anything. Perhaps his father, the Old Lion. However, it is obvious from his behavior and what the tales say that vows mean nothing to him. He proved that well enough when he slew the Mad King._

Yet such unkind thoughts were unusual for Brielle. And they troubled her. Yes, she would much rather be skewering him with her blade at the moment, but Brielle had often questioned the shame placed on Jaime Lannister for his actions the day King's Landing was sacked. After all, she knew what a good and honorable man her uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne, had been. Everyone said so of the last Sword of the Morning. She wanted to believe that he never would have knighted her future husband if he had any doubts of the lion's honor and Jaime's ability to uphold his vows. Brielle desperately wanted to believe there was a goodness and kindness there, at least an ounce of honor to be found, but the golden knight's actions left her with the ashes of a budding hope for her unknown future.

Finally, the pair reached Brielle's seat at the high tables. She was seated along with her cousins and Theon just below the table hosting the royal family and the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Jaime let go of her arm and she sat gratefully, refusing to look at him or thank the knight for his escort. Nor did Jaime seem to care to receive one. With his assigned task completed, her betrothed started to walk away to find his own seat. However, King Robert did not seem to like that.

"Kingslayer!" He bellowed, bringing a hush over the hall.

Jaime turned his head in the king's direction. "Your Grace?"

"Your place is by the girl," he boomed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his flushed face.

A moment passed before Jaime nodded in deference and walked back to Brielle. She looked at him with uncertainty as he flopped down on her right. When Jaime was finally seated, His Grace called for the feast to begin.

As everyone began to dig into their food, the lion gave her a sardonic smirk. "Seems you're stuck with me for company this evening, little wolf," he remarked in a hushed tone, leaning closer to her ear to ensure Brielle heard him.

His breath on her neck caused a shiver to run down her spine and goosebumps to rise along her flesh. She eyed him coldly in response.

Throughout the courses of food, the two managed to avoid speaking to each other, which did not go unnoticed by anyone near them. Thankfully, everyone was wise enough not to mention the seemingly out of place tension between Brielle and the Lannister knight. However, it did not stop either Theon or Robb from eyeing Jaime in distaste. Or Arya from sending Brielle several confused looks.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that evening, Brielle withheld a sigh. All she had wanted when approaching Jaime earlier was to start a pleasant rapport with her future husband. Instead, she had likely provided him with great amusement as he formed the impression of her as nothing more than a mouthy child who knew nothing of the world or what she was doing. And now she was forced to sit next to him when all the while Brielle simply wanted to dump the contents of her goblet, or better yet an entire pitcher of wine, over Jaime's head. Then, she'd storm out of the great hall and find Jon. He would be much better company than the mocking knight on her right side.

Even if their relationship wasn't quite the same from before she became legitimate, Jon always knew what Brielle needed, just as she knew what he needed. And right now, she did not think Jon would have any problems with going a few rounds. Likely, her morose cousin would be outside hacking at a few practice dummies while the rest of Winterfell feasted without him. That thought made Brielle wish more than ever that she could abandon the hall for Jon.

But her wishes were not to be as her uncle stood from his seat and commanded the attention of the room. Everyone quickly quieted to hear what their liege lord had to say.

"Honored friends, I thank you for aiding the family of House Stark in the task of celebrating the safe arrival of His Grace and family to Winterfell. Now, I ask all of you to raise your cups and toast to their continued good health."

Cheers went up as goblets were raised and everyone drank, but Lord Stark was not yet done. He glanced at Brielle quickly. Her stomach clenched, dread and anticipation taking hold. She noticed Jaime visibly tense next to her. He knew as well as she did. This was it. There would be no going back after this moment. Both of their lives were about to change.

Her uncle called for cups to be refilled. All who knew him well could tell that what he was about to say did not bring him great happiness. "However, it is not only the safe arrival and good health of the royal family that we celebrate tonight. By His Grace's command, we also celebrate a betrothal, very soon to be a marriage. I ask all of you to raise your cups once more in toast to the union of my niece, Lady Brielle Stark, to Ser Jaime Lannister. King Robert has deemed it appropriate to release him from his vows as a member of the Kingsguard so that Ser Jaime may fulfill his role as heir to Casterly Rock after years of faithful service and wishes to create stronger ties between the Houses Stark and Lannister. They will be wed seven days hence in the Godswood in the light of the Seven at the request of my niece."

Everyone drank at the toast, but there was much less enthusiasm than before. Why wouldn't there be? A Stark was being thrown to the lions.

Brielle hazarded a glance at her cousins. Robb was livid, although he tried to hide it. Sansa looked to be beaming with happiness for her. Arya looked utterly heartbroken. And Theon…his face was stone cold. He turned his stormy blue eyes upon her. She felt as if her old love had punched her in the gut with the look he gave her.

As soon as the festive mood began to pick up once more, Theon abruptly rose from his seat and stalked from the hall, Robb hot on his heels. Hopefully they'd find Jon and tell him what had happened. They would all need time and likely a lengthy discussion involving Brielle pointing out the unfortunate alliance's advantages. That would come tomorrow. For now, Brielle needed to survive the night.

Part of that became easier when Jaime stood and bid her farewell as he went to mingle about the room. She wondered if he'd find another wall to lean against and watch those around him. Brielle could admit she had found him quite handsome for a brief moment back in the hall as he observed his surroundings. But then Jaime had opened his mouth and ruined it. Again, she withheld a sigh.

Not long after Jaime's departure, Sansa and her friend Jeyne Poole scooted closer and began to gush over how very lucky Brielle was to have achieved such a match. And with such a handsome and talented knight nonetheless. She would eventually become the Lady of Casterly Rock and never want for riches or protection.

Arya had come closer as well and looked at her sister and Jeyne with disgust. "Brielle doesn't care about gold. And anyway, she doesn't need protection," the younger Stark reminded the two. "Brielle can protect herself. She's a better swordsman than Jon or Robb. Even Rodrick says so."

Sansa rolled her eyes at her little sister. "She can't be a swordsman, idiot. She's a lady. And it will be Ser Jaime's duty as her husband to ensure Brielle's safety."

Before Brielle could make her own comments on the matter, a handmaiden she had never seen before begged the young woman's attention.

"Pardon me, my lady," she began and curtsied. "The queen has requested your presence at the high table." All four of the Northern girls looked to the golden queen in question. Her Grace smiled at Brielle and beckoned her over with a tilt of the head.

Not wishing to cause her soon to be sister-in-law to think badly of her, the young woman immediately stood and followed the handmaiden. Soon enough, Brielle stood in front of Queen Cersei and her lady aunt. A quick glance showed that Lady Catelyn was uneasy about this requested audience. Brielle had no qualms in admitting she felt the same.

The young woman curtsied to her queen. "Your Grace."

Smile still in place, but failing to truly reach her Lannister green eyes, Queen Cersei addressed her. "Well, you certainly are a beauty. The Dark Beauty of Winterfell I've been told. I must admit, you possess an uncanny resemblance to your mother."

Brielle nodded, forcing her face to remain polite but impassive. Her mask was firmly in place yet again. "So I have been told, Your Grace. Any who knew her are struck by the resemblance."

"But there is some Stark in you as well. So, I suppose it is not a true likeness."

Brielle could think of no reply, thus she remained silent.

The queen now perused her with a critical eye, possessing what Brielle now perceived to be a false smile upon her lips. Already the false pretenses of the South were before her. As the moments dragged on, the Northern beauty grew more certain that her betrothed's twin sister did not like her.

 _Likely she believes me beneath her, as I'm sure all Lannisters will likely conclude._ It was unkind to think so of an entire family she had yet to meet, but at the present Brielle could not find the will to care.

Cersei finally spoke. "My brother is a fortunate man. Not all are so lucky as to wed a pretty wife. And you are also very fortunate in this matter. The heir to Casterly Rock is truly a prize catch, especially for someone who was once a bastard." She paused, gauging the young woman's reaction. When Brielle did not give her one, she continued. "And do you think my brother Jaime to be handsome, Lady Brielle? I would understand if you thought not after being exposed only to men of the North and those of Dorne. He must be quite a different sight."

"Not at all, Your Grace," Brielle refuted. "Ser Jaime is nothing like the men of the North or Dorne, this is true. But he is a handsome man in his own right, with the pride and golden traits of a fearsome lion. Any woman would be fortunate to claim your brother as her husband."

Rather than please her, Brielle's comments only seemed to annoy Cersei further. Her eyes narrowed a fraction and her smile tightened ever so slightly. _Whatever did I do to deserve this woman's spite?_

Brielle could see out of the corner of her eye that Lady Stark was trying to decide if she should interfere. While the concern for her was touching, Brielle did not think she needed the help for the moment. She could see that the queen was attempting to find fault with her while Cersei wore a smile of false friendship on her face. The she-wolf realized then that the woman before her encapsulated everything she despised about the South. Things were always so much simpler in the North.

"I imagine you're a musical girl," Cersei mused. "Lady Ashara was quite gifted with the harp, although she could never hope to rival the superior skills of Prince Rhaegar."

"I'm afraid I have no talent when it comes to playing an instrument. I've attempted throughout the years at the behest of Lady Stark and Septa Mordane, but I was never a diligent or attentive student." Brielle wondered where the queen was going with this path of conversation. A small niggling of an idea formed, but she couldn't be certain she had the right of it.

The queen contemplated Brielle's answer. "Then perhaps you could entertain us with a song? Surely you must have inherited something from Ashara beside her looks. I was told she had a lovely voice."

 _And my Aunt Allyria once expressed great disdain for the pain her ears suffered when their septa tried to teach Mother to sing._ Gifted harpist Ashara had most definitely been, but her singing voice had left much to be desired. Brielle's Dornish aunt had shared many tales about Ashara's failed lessons in the art of singing with great relish.

"If it would please you, Your Grace," the young woman acquiesced. Then, she allowed a small smirk to form, directed at the golden queen before she took a breath and started to sing an old Northern tune. A look of surprise and then annoyance was quickly masked by Queen Cersei as Brielle brought the hall to silence.

Inside, Brielle glowed with pride. _Never underestimate the she-wolf, lioness._

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Jaime finally had Tyrion for company after enduring this gods awful feast for far too long on his own. They'd found a table not too far from that of the royal family and their hosts and were currently enjoying their second pitcher of wine. Tyrion complained how it wasn't Dornish red or Arbor gold, but it would do for their needs tonight. Jaime was glad for it. He'd spent too much time alone amongst the Stark men as they watched him closely. It was no doubt due to the surprise betrothal between himself and their liege lord's niece. Brielle may have spent most of her life as a bastard in Winterfell, but it seemed even she was sacred to these Northerners.

Suddenly, all thoughts of subpar wine and overly watchful bannermen fled as one of the most beautiful voices Jaime had ever heard broke through the clamor of the feast. The entire hall fell silent as all looked to the high table where his betrothed stood proudly, singing for his sister and Lady Stark.

 _Sing me a song of a lass that is gone,_

 _Say, could that lass be I?_

 _Merry of soul she sailed on a day_

 _Over the sea to Skye_

 _Billow and breeze, islands and seas,_

 _Mountains of rain and sun,_

 _All that was good, all that was fair,_

 _All that was me is gone._

 _Sing me a song of a lass that is gone,_

 _Say, could that lass be I?_

 _Merry of soul she sailed on a day_

 _Over the sea to Skye._

Silence reigned as the last notes of the song hung in the air. Then, thunderous applause and stomping feet roared to life. Jaime noticed Brielle start, turning around to witness the enthusiasm of those gathered. She smiled and curtsied in thanks for the praise.

Jaime also noticed his twin's expression. Cersei was not happy. Why? Did the girl do something wrong? As he looked closer at her, Jaime couldn't help the smirk of amusement that came to his face. No, Cersei had tried to embarrass the girl, but it had backfired. And quite spectacularly too it would seem.

It was then Brielle's eyes caught his. They shared a brief moment as the applause thundered on. Without thinking, Jaime's smirk softened and he raised his cup in salute. He couldn't entirely be sure, but Jaime thought she might have blushed a little. Brielle quickly averted those hauntingly beautiful violet eyes, causing the knight's smirk to return full force. She truly was a peculiar thing, his wife-to-be.

Cheers and shouts for another rang out, growing louder as Brielle appeared to freeze in uncertainty. She hadn't lied about not caring for the attention of everyone to be solely on her. After a few moments, Brielle managed to shake herself and smiled at those gathered. She nodded, much to the hall's happiness, but beckoned for her cousin Sansa to join her. The younger girl did so with some hesitance. However, the red head's confidence returned quickly after a short whispered conversation with her cousin. The two shared a smile, then began to sing a much different tune.

' _Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone_

 _All her lovely companions are faded and gone._

 _No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh_

 _To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh._

 _I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, to pine on the stem_

 _Since the lovely are sleeping, go sleep thou with them._

 _Thus kindly I scatter they leaves o'ver the bed_

 _Where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead._

 _So soon may I follow when friendships decay_

 _And from love's shining circle the gems drop away._

 _When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown_

 _Oh who would inhabit this bleak world alone?_

 _This bleak world alone._

Again, the great hall erupted into a cacophony of thunderous applause and stomping feet. The approval the two girls received for their performance was quite something. As he watched Brielle with her cousin accept the praise, Jaime finally felt as if he knew something for certain. Tomorrow morning couldn't come fast enough.

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 **A/N:** "The Skye Boat Song", version written by Bear McCreary for the theme of _Outlander_. "The Last Rose of Summer," version arranged and performed by Celtic Woman.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: My deepest apologies for how long it has been. But I have to say this: I am floored by the amount of people following and favoriting this story! You guys are amazing :D

While I haven't posted anything in two months, I have been writing out drafts in my notebook. So, not all is lost. And believe me when I say a few things have wound up going in a somewhat different direction from what I originally had planned. It surprised me quite a bit. But hopefully, you'll all still enjoy what is to come.

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Chapter 3

The rest of the evening, Brielle and her betrothed managed to successfully avoid each other as the feast wore on. They mingled and moved around the hall but never made contact. Brielle imagined it was a relief to the both of them.

And yet he had initiated something with his salute earlier. The unexpected gesture nibbled on the young woman's mind as the evening progressed.

She and Sansa both received many words of praise after their duet and her cousin simply glowed under the attention. Brielle was glad for it. She had requested Sansa to join her for two reasons. First, Brielle did not feel comfortable with all the attention and thought the addition of her cousin would help alleviate the nerves that were arising at the thought of performing a second piece. And more than that, Brielle had wanted to showcase Sansa favorably to her future mother-in-law. The queen may already have formed a severe dislike of herself, but Brielle was convinced she could not possibly find fault with the young red haired beauty. If she did, then Cersei truly was contemptuous.

The lion queen's pride had certainly been injured by Brielle's unexpected victory. The look of contained annoyance on the former Lannister's face brought a smug satisfaction to the she-wolf. The applause and reception her performance had wrung from those assembled added to that feeling as well. Even if the young woman couldn't do anything about the words the queen had spoken to her, it was comforting to know she had support amongst her countrymen. The same could not be said for the lioness. The reaction of those assembled to Brielle's impromptu display served to remind Cersei that she was in the North, surrounded by northerners. She would find little support amongst the wolves.

Of course, even a queen must keep up appearances.

After the applause had died down, Cersei congratulated the girls on a splendid performance. Sansa took the compliment at face value and practically beamed from the praise. Brielle knew better. She could clearly see the venom and spite that those narrowed green eyes directed at her person. Eyes she only realized then that were identical to Jaime's. That epiphany unnerved the she-wolf. She did not want to think of this vile woman when she looked into the eyes of the man who was soon to become her husband.

The queen had dismissed her, but requested Sansa to stay so they may talk a little. As Brielle turned to leave, Lady Stark caught her gaze. For a brief moment, the older woman smiled at her niece, her Tully blue eyes showing gratitude for the other's actions. Brielle acknowledged the thanks with a small nod.

Arya joined her immediately and the two began to circulate the room. The young girl's presence was good for two reasons. Not only did Brielle now have excellent company as she moved about, but she could also very easily keep an eye on her cousin, ensuring that Arya wouldn't get herself into any mischief, intentional or otherwise. The two spoke with different members of the Stark household staff, particularly Jory Cassel for a time. He was always a wonderful source for stories of past battles, as he rarely ever seemed able to say no to any of the Stark children, especially Brielle. She had used that to her advantage on more than one occasion. The choice of their conversation companions did not come as a surprise to anyone who knew Brielle. Even after her ascension to legitimacy, Brielle still felt far more comfortable interacting with the less noble members of Winterfell and beyond. A part of the young woman continued to feel as if she were a fraud, despite the king's proclamation, and she feared that small insecurity could prove dangerous in the South. She would have to work on that.

After the two cousins had spent a fair amount of time mingling with those attending the feast, they began to make their way back toward the high tables. However, their journey was interrupted by the appearance of a dwarf with golden hair. Immediately, Brielle knew that this could only be Lord Tyrion Lannister, commonly called the Imp by those who wished to insult him. Arya's eyes brightened at the sight of the little man.

Tyrion Lannister was certainly well into his cups, but that did not stop him from being impeccably polite and courteous. He'd praised her talents and beauty, even congratulated her on the betrothal. He appeared genuine in his remarks. Despite her current dislike for his brother, Brielle found Tyrion to be quite enjoyable. Proud and arrogant, yes. She doubted any Lannister wasn't. But he was more humbled in comparison to Jaime. She wondered if it had anything to do with his status as a dwarf. Even in the North, dwarves were seen as little better than bastards. The thought troubled Brielle. What scorn and misery had he faced in his life, only because of his birth? Apparently they had something in common. It helped endear him to the she-wolf. And now, based on her first encounters with each of Tywin Lannister's sons, Brielle found herself wishing the king was forcing her to wed the Little Lion instead.

Their conversation was interrupted by Lord Stark. Her uncle requested Brielle to help see Arya, Bran and Rickon off to bed as Lady Stark was still occupied with the queen and Septa Mordane was busy keeping an eye on Sansa, who had permission to stay later due to being older than the other three. Arya unsurprisingly complained about not being tired, but Brielle quickly hushed her.

The two Stark girls collected the boys and left the warmth of the great hall. Soon enough, Brielle had tucked in a sleeping Rickon and helped a barely awake Bran find his bed. She made her way to Arya's room, wanting to make sure her wild little cousin was actually getting ready for bed. However, the she-wolf was not surprised to find the younger girl practicing sword movements with the wooden practice sword Brielle had fashioned for her nearly six months ago. And still wearing her dress from the feast, no less. The black haired beauty could only smile in amusement at the sight.

Most nights Brielle would work with Arya in the girl's room for a time just before bed. They would go over foot work, grip, and beginning blocking movements, adding more and more as the sessions progressed. Her cousin was a diligent student and picked things up fast. They were starting to reach a point where Brielle didn't know how much more she could teach Arya within the confines of the room. It was a dilemma she had been contemplating for some time now. They needed more space but Brielle couldn't risk being caught. Her uncle might overlook it as he had with her, but Lady Stark would never allow her youngest daughter's lessons to continue. Such a thing would devastate Arya, who looked forward to their nightly sessions so much she worked very hard to be well-behaved and good mannered during the day. After all, if Arya wasn't willing to complete her lessons with the septa, she couldn't have her lessons with Brielle. That was the deal they struck almost half a year ago. Unsurprisingly, Septa Mordane believed Arya's improved behavior was her teachings finally getting through to the young girl. However, the two cousins new better.

They had shared a good laugh about it with Jon on more than one occasion, the only other person who knew about Arya's secret lessons and encouraged it. Sometimes Brielle wondered if he was the only other person in all of Winterfell who truly understood Arya. At least the younger girl would have him for a time, now that Brielle was to be married off.

The thought brought a deep ache to the she-wolf's heart. No more late night talks, or impromptu sleepovers in Brielle's bed, or sword lessons. So many things were about to change, not only for her but for many of the people she cared about. Now Brielle truly realized why Arya had looked so utterly heartbroken at the news of her betrothal. The younger girl understood far quicker what she was losing. The fact Brielle could do nothing to lessen the pain of her cousin filled her with a deep grief. Out of everyone in Winterfell, Arya would be the hardest to leave behind. Of course every member of her family and many of the household would be difficult to leave as well, but Arya had always been her favorite, even over Jon. From the moment she held that squirming little bundle in her arms, Brielle had felt a deep connection to the girl. They were much the same, resulting in her viewing Arya as a little sister rather than simply a cousin. And it was why Brielle knew she would be abandoning a small piece of her heart with the little girl when the time came to say their goodbyes. She knew they would see each other again, but those times would be far too short and far too long in waiting. At least she had some time left, but she knew it would never feel as if it were enough.

Brielle mentally shook herself. Now was neither the time nor the place to dwell on such gloomy thoughts.

She gave Arya an indulgent smile. "And who are you fighting so diligently tonight?"

Arya frowned, her eyes an unnatural cold. "The Kingslayer."

Brielle frowned in response. "Don't call him that Arya. It is unkind."

"But it's the truth!" She exclaimed. "Everyone says it, even the king. So, why shouldn't I?"

Brielle shook her head at her little cousin. She truly was a Stark, seeing everything so clearly as either black or white. The she-wolf knew that had she not spent time in Dorne, she would likely have been the same. Instead, Brielle understood the world was many shades of gray, no matter how much she might wish it to be different. However, the fact she was now debating this principle in regards to Jaime Lannister was rather a bit baffling, and perhaps a tad amusing if she were honest.

With a sigh, Brielle moved to the bed and sat, patting the space next to her so Arya would sit. The girl complied quickly. As she settled, Arya looked at her older cousin questioningly.

"It is true that Jaime Lannister slew the Mad King," Brielle began. "But no one knows why. Certainly, there are those who think they know. Yet have words of explanation ever come from the man's own mouth? No, he has kept silent on the issue and one can only wonder as to why. Perhaps he is ashamed to admit the truth. Or maybe he does not care what others think and believes he does not need to explain himself. There is no way to know. All we can do is strive not to emulate those who would insult and condemn a man we do not know well enough to judge." The young woman gave Arya a meaningful glance. "Furthermore, Ser Jaime is to be my husband and your cousin by marriage, as well as the future Lord of Casterly Rock and the Warden of the West. It would be better for you to use his name, little one."

 _I can't believe I am defending the same man I was prepared to skewer with my sword less than a few hours ago. But I know what I speak is true. I've thought it enough times not to forget it now, no matter how angry the insufferable man makes me._

Arya did not say anything for a time, thinking on Brielle's words. Her brow furrowed in thought. "But he still broke his vows. Doesn't that mean he has no honor? That vows mean nothing to him?"

Brielle wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders, giving them a brief squeeze. "I don't know, little one. Perhaps his reasons were enough for him to break his vows to the king. Or maybe he truly is just a knight who thinks nothing of his vows. I assume we'll learn more about Jaime Lannister's honor in the coming days."

The vows of a knight. There were quite a few, if she recalled correctly. Those she remembered she started to recite to herself. After a moment, the young woman paused. Brielle had never thought about it before, but now that she had spoken the words in her mind, something did not feel right. Defend the king, obey the king. Obey you father. Protect the innocent, defend the weak….

Every knight spoke these words, words they were supposed to live and die by. But what if the king decided to kill the innocent? King Aerys had started burning supposed enemies left and right, including Brielle's father and grandfather. And what if your father rose up against the king? Tywin Lannister was the reason King's Landing was sacked and successfully taken. An uncomfortable knot formed in Brielle's stomach. What did one do when upholding one vow meant breaking another? Was that the choice Jaime had been forced to make? What really happened in the throne room that day?

Arya grabbed her attention. "If he ever breaks his vows to you, I'll stick him with the pointy end of his own sword."

Startled, Brielle looked at the girl closely. Arya was completely serious. The she-wolf couldn't stop the amused smile from forming on her lips, or the soft chuckle that escaped. She hugged Arya tightly, showing the girl her appreciation for such a vow to defend her honor. "I do not doubt it. Nor do I think you'll be alone in that endeavor. I daresay your father, older brothers, and Theon will be right behind you."

Arya grinned mischievously at the thought. Brielle merely shook her head in amused exasperation at her cousin's enthusiasm. She reached up and ruffled the younger girl's hair playfully.

"Now, let's get you ready for bed. Change into your night shift and I'll brush your hair quick." Brielle poked her lightly on the nose with great affection.

Arya groaned, but did as she was told. Soon enough, she was changed, her hair had been taken down and brushed, and Brielle was tucking her in.

"I love you, little one. It breaks my heart that I'll have to leave you soon, but I promise to spend as much time as I can with you until then," Brielle told her, regret creeping into her voice.

Her cousin's eyes suddenly began to glisten with unshed tears. "Can we still practice until you have to leave?"

Brielle smiled, her own eyes becoming watery, and nodded. "Of course we can. If you want, I can try to persuade your father to find you a new teacher."

Arya frowned. "I don't want a new teacher."

"I know, little one. But you'll never become a great swordswoman without one," she reminded her.

Her cousin pouted, but nodded in acquiesce.

Brielle gave her another small smile, then leaned over to place a kiss on her brow. "Sleep well, Arya. And who knows? Perhaps the morrow will bring something exciting."

"I doubt it."

Brielle chuckled. "Well, be prepared to be proven wrong, just in case." She rose from the bed and made her way to the door. "Good night, my sweet one."

"Good night, Brielle," Arya replied with a hidden yawn.

Brielle exited the room and made her way down a few halls to find her own. Once there, she quickly stripped and pulled on a night shift, loosening her hair from its braids before climbing into bed. Dawn was more than happy to see her and quickly curled up next to her mistress to sleep. Brielle smiled at the pup, stroking her fur tenderly.

She was nervous, but excited to see what the morning would bring and hoped she could manage to get enough sleep in order to be prepared for it. After all, she was going up against Ser Jaime Lannister. She'd need all her strength to prove her point and defend the honor of House Stark. Not to mention successfully wipe that annoying smirk from his face. With that last thought, Brielle finally managed to drift off to sleep.

However, that night she was besieged by a dream of battling wolves and lions, as stags and vipers watched on while a sea of golden roses encircled them all.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Jaime found it difficult to sleep that night. His thoughts were too occupied with the woman being forced upon him by his father and the king.

He had left the feast a while after Tyrion decided to abandon him for the company of the Northmen, wishing to find his bed for sleep before morning arrived. However, Jaime soon realized he had no idea how to get back to his room. Winterfell truly was a maze to newcomers. It reminded him of how guests often became lost in the vastness of Casterly Rock when he was a boy. Eventually, Jaime thought he recognized where he was and believed himself to be on the right path. That is when he saw his betrothed enter a room not too far ahead of him. Intrigued, the knight decided to investigate. Quiet but purposeful steps brought him quickly to the door in question, which he unashamedly put his ear to, when he heard Brielle speak.

"And who are you fighting so diligently tonight?" she'd asked with amusement.

A cold and young voice responded, belonging to the youngest of the Stark girls. "The Kingslayer."

Jaime's blood boiled and ran cold at the same time, hearing the name he so despised. Yet another wolf judging the lion. His hands clenched into fists as he started to pull away. However, Brielle's next words stopped him.

"Don't call him that, Arya. It is unkind."

Surprise ran through Jaime at his betrothed's words. He had left things less than civil between them before the feast. Yet the girl came to his defense? He stayed a little while longer, listening to Brielle speak with her cousin about him and why he might have killed Aerys Targaryen.

A strange feeling started to form in his gut as Brielle spoke. She didn't know him, should be furious at him. Yet in a way she was defending Jaime to her family. Why? What did she possibly gain from it?

Once the girls were done discussing him, Jaime pushed away and headed off to try finding his room once more. Eventually, he found a passing maid, who directed him toward his lodgings. And then, he was in his room. But sleep would not come. He was left with his thoughts on Brielle and the myriad of emotions that came with them.

Confusion was perhaps the main one. He didn't understand his betrothed. The ride up from King's Landing, Jaime believed he'd find a female version of Ned Stark waiting for him, although if the gods were kind she'd be at least somewhat prettier. They had proved to be merciful, but it wasn't Ned Stark reborn as a woman that met Jaime. There was Stark in her, it was easy enough to see that, but there was something else as well. A spark he couldn't figure out. It was there in her eyes, drawing you in much like her mother's for the men of her time. And there was something in her manners as well. Despite her pride in House Stark and the sense of honor she felt, there was something different about Brielle from the rest of the North. Perhaps the time spent in Dorne she had spoken of was responsible for why he wasn't to be shackled to a completely cold blooded northerner. After years of Cersei's passion, Jaime didn't know if he could stand bedding such a woman.

Yet his confusion over Brielle also made way for annoyance. His future wife was an enigma to him, a puzzle that now needed to be solved. Tyrion liked puzzles. Jaime did not. Things were so much better when everything was straightforward. No hidden messages. No hidden agenda. Hence Jaime's dislike for people such as Littlefinger, Varys and Pycelle. The battlefield was so much easier to understand and maneuver than dealing with the underhanded cunts of Robert's small council.

 _But she is not them._

No, Brielle was certainly not any of these men. Nor was she one of the many social climbing ladies of King's Landing, hoping to gain favor with the king or queen, or wishing to see to the downfall of another. Her actions and words so far had demonstrated as much. No lady trying to gain Jaime's favor would have laid down a challenge after his callous remarks. She would have laughed uncomfortably or become flustered. His future wife was most certainly of the North in that regard.

But why defend him, the Kingslayer, from those who would use that vile moniker? What did she gain in defending a man she did not know with no one of consequence to witness? Perhaps the girl had seen him before she entered her cousin's room. No, that made little sense. Jaime doubted Brielle would have thought he'd listen at the door like a common gossip, even if she had seen him down the hall.

And then there was the matter of her challenge. What sort of noblewoman, much less any woman for that matter, challenged a man to swords? A knight considered to be the best fighter in the Seven Kingdoms at that. Again, Jaime was at a loss. What did she gain in all of this?

Maybe his future wife was just a little touched in the head. It could explain her defense of his honor to the youngest Stark girl. But even that possible explanation did not sit well with him. He knew in his gut it wasn't true.

Jaime ran his hands through his hair in frustration and groaned. He did not need this. He may not like serving Robert Baratheon, but at least his job was simple enough. Protect the king, obey the king…no matter how many times he'd rather shove a sword through the oaf's bowels and steal Cersei away. What he wouldn't give to be able to lose himself in her embrace that very moment. These thoughts would not plague him then.

Now, Jaime was to be ripped away from the woman he loved yet again, only to be wed to some chit of a girl from the North who left his head spinning by the confusion she caused with her mere existence.

 _Damn the gods for not taking the girl as an infant._

Many heard the whispers that spread throughout the court. Ashara's bastard would not last the year, they said. Too weak and sick to survive the hardships of the world. But no, the girl had to live, thriving in the North as it were, and now he was to be stripped of his somewhat peaceful existence in order to amuse his king, please his father, and become the next Lord of Casterly Rock. All while giving the Starks ties to the Westerlands when they already them in the East with Lady Stark's crazed widowed sister and sickly son. Not to mention those they held in the Riverlands. And more would follow when Joffrey married the eldest daughter….if he didn't ruin the girl beforehand.

 _Cersei really should bring that boy to heel._ _He'll be no better than Robert otherwise, or worse. And then I will feel sympathy for a Stark._ Jaime shook his head at the mere idea.

Fed up with the never ending thoughts swirling around his head, Jaime rose and began to strip. He would come to a conclusion about his soon to be wife when they met in the practice yard. He did not expect much of a challenge. She may be only a few inches shorter than him, but it would not aid her. A girl of no consequence without any training would not last very long. And Jaime would show the foolish girl, as well as the rest of these northerners, what happened when a wolf challenged a lion.

Even if she did sing prettily. And was capable of thwarting Cersei, however small it was.

Resolved, Jaime climbed into bed, pulled the blankets and furs up, rolled over and closed his eyes. He would sleep now, and think nothing more of Brielle Stark.

Of course, his resolution did nothing to stop those haunting violet eyes from plaguing his dreams. And they were not the only pair to follow him. Another violet gaze, this one older, stern yet kind, that he knew from times long passed stared him down with disapproval. It filled Jaime with shame and disquiet. It wasn't until the cock crowed at the first light of dawn that Jaime recognized the second pair for the eyes of his former comrade, Ser Arthur Dayne.

The disquiet from his sleep continued to haunt him as Jaime woke. A cold sweat overtook his body, accompanied by a slight shake in his limbs. A burning anger was suddenly ignited. Jaime clenched his hands into fists, wishing to break something, anything if he could. No, that would have to wait for when he drew his sword. He could take all this confusion and frustration out on the girl responsible.

Jaime looked out the window and glared at the bleakness that greeted him. _I truly hate the North._


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** My deepest apologies for the long absence, dear readers. When I started this story, I was five months pregnant and it was already not exactly the easiest of pregnancies. Not long after my last update, I began experiencing serve pain in my wrists and fingers, making it unbearable to type and almost impossible to write with a pen for more than a short note. I was retaining water so badly I had developed pregnancy induced carpal tunnel. Until after my daughter was born and my body started to flush out, I could not write anything. Then, the demands of a new parent set in. Between that, utter exhaustion, and some post-partum depression, I had no desire to write anything. Once things finally settled, I suffered with writer's block. For over a year. I couldn't manage to create anything more for a single story I currently have in development. Anything I wrote was just pure crap. Thankfully, things seem to finally be moving again. While I am still stuck on writing chapter thirteen for Dark Wolf, I have the ambition to continue on with typing up and uploading what is already written for the rest. I can only thank you all for your patience and the love you have given to this story. It warms my heart more than I can possibly explain.

Furthermore, as we move onward, I would like to remind everyone that this story is an AU. Some things will be the same or similar. Others are going to be very different. I've inserted a completely new character into a powerful noble house that is essential to the plotline. It is bound to create ripple effects, some of which have already happened.

Now, please enjoy this long overdue chapter.

 **Chapter 4**

Brielle rose from her bed just before the sun's light began to creep above the horizon. For as long as she could remember, she had struggled with staying asleep for long periods of time, even when she was exhausted. Thankfully, at this point she was used to it and had learned to survive on little rest.

While Brielle started to move around, Dawn watched from the bed. The pup observed as her mistress splashed her face with cold water and dried off, then began to do her habitual morning exercises and stretches. Within fifteen minutes the young woman was finished, ending her morning routine by quickly dressing into her training clothes. As she finished lacing up her boots, Brielle gave a short whistle, calling Dawn to her in an order to follow. The pup quietly leapt from the bed and trotted over. Smiling down at the eager little direwolf, Brielle swung her cloak over her shoulders, then opened the door. The two proceeded to sneak down the many halls of Winterfell for the kitchens.

The young woman and direwolf were both surprised to find the rooms unusually deserted for this time in the early morning. By now, Agatha and Sera should be starting the fires up as the rest of the kitchen staff prepped what would be needed for the many occupants of Winterfell's breakfast. However, Brielle was not all that surprised and secretly glad. The feast had raged on for quite a few hours after she retired no doubt, which left the kitchens without staff to pester her with questions or normal chitchat. Normally, Brielle did not mind. She enjoyed interacting with many of the servants. Today was merely a day where she desired to be left to her own thoughts for any sort of dialect. She especially had no desire to discuss with any of the younger women her surprise betrothal. That was a subject she would actively avoid for the moment.

After a little rummaging around, Brielle managed to find a small loaf of day old bread, a couple apples and a few strips of smoked jerky for a light breakfast. A few scraps left over from last night's feast were easy to find in the waste bins put aside for the dogs, which served as Dawn's morning meal. The growing pup greedily ate up the meat pieces while her mistress munched on her loaf. Once Dawn was finished, the two made their way to the godswood. It was just as Brielle was finishing the last of her apple and tucking the other away for later that they entered the domain of the Old Gods.

A soft smile came to the she-wolf's lips as she walked under the canopy of the many ancient trees. While she may have been born in the light of the Seven, Brielle had never found any comfort from sitting in the small sept her uncle had built for his southern lady wife. Instead, she always felt as if she were a stranger, unwelcomed by the New Gods, as much an outcast in their eyes as she was to the rest of the world. But here….here among these many ancient trees and the air of times long past, this was where she knew she was welcomed. Even the carved face upon the great weirwood provided comfort and solace. The crying ancient face and the dark red leaves bothered Lady Catelyn and Sansa, but the once bastard looked upon the heart tree as if it were an old friend.

Throughout her childhood, the dark haired beauty had traversed the entirety of the three acres that made up Winterfell's godswood, this small piece of the old forest left untouched for ten thousand years. Hours she had spent here alone, with Jon, or sometimes even with Theon when they wished to escape the prying and knowing eyes of those older than themselves. Yet she would soon be forced to leave this long time comfort. She would go to the South, where those who still worshipped the Old Gods were looked down upon as if they were heathens by those who followed the Seven.

Brielle sighed and took a seat on one of the large roots under the heart tree, mulling over that new realization. _As if I was not already to be considered an outsider by the rest of the Lannisters. I do hope none are foolish enough to try to convert me. They will be sorely disappointed. And if they persist, I may have to prove how much of a "heathen" we northerners can be._

The fact she was to be the one to marry the heir of House Lannister must be such a disappointment for the current Lord of Casterly Rock. After all, how could it not? Tywin Lannister was forced to wed his eldest son to a legitimized bastard in order to gain him back as his heir. The Old Lion's hands were tied. Brielle tried not to dwell on it, but she could admit there was a small amount of fear that her future father-in-law would look on her with nothing but disdain and contempt. The young woman knew she should not be worried about this, it would be nothing new. But this was Tywin Lannister, a man who took great pride in his house and would no doubt view her joining with Jaime as a stain upon the Lannister legacy. Of noble blood she may be, but that was of little consequence to those who still viewed Brielle as no better than the manner of her birth, regardless of King Robert's decree. After all, she had no lands to inherit, nor great wealth to give to her husband. All that the she-wolf had was the name Stark, which was why many of the northern lords, as well as a few from the Vale and the Riverlands, had made an offer for the Dark Beauty of Winterfell's hand. For the great men who ruled it, her only worth in this world was her name and Brielle highly doubted that meant much of anything at all to the Old Lion.

As the hours of the early morning passed, Brielle remained sitting under the heart tree in silent contemplation. Dawn had scampered off, leaving her mistress to her thoughts as the pup stretched her own legs and explored the area. Brielle did not begrudge her furry companion. While the pup was exceedingly obedient, Dawn was still very young, full of energy and a natural curiosity of the world around her.

While Dawn wandered, her mistress thought over all that had happened the previous day. After all, there was so very much to contemplate. What would her future hold married to the heir of Casterly Rock? How was she to survive a lifetime of living among southerners? Could she truly match the skill of Ser Jaime Lannister, the man considered to be the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms and who had trained with her legendary uncle? The young woman beseeched the gods for guidance. She received none, but still felt more at peace with her uncertain future by the time she rose from her spot to leave.

When Brielle and Dawn emerged from the depths of the godswood, the sun was now above the horizon and life had returned to the yard as servants and soldiers went about their work. Brielle stayed out of their way, minding her path as she quickly walked over to her second favorite place in Winterfell. She could already hear the stomping of impatient hooves and periodic snorts.

As Brielle entered the stable, the smell of hay and horse dung immediately greeted her nose. Out of habit, her tongue made a sharp click, causing a dappled gray mare's head to pop out over a stall door. The mare gave a happy knicker in greeting. Brielle smiled in response, walking further down the aisle in order to stroke the fair beast's head with great affection.

"Good morning, Mist," the she-wolf greeted while pulling out the second apple she had swiped earlier from the kitchens. The mare took the treat delicately, having learned long ago that good manners were rewarded.

Once Mist had taken the last remnants from her hand, the young woman grabbed a nearby bucket of brushes, then entered the stall along with Dawn. The mare and direwolf shared a quick greeting, in which Mist gently bumped the pup on her rump as she passed, before Dawn settled down into some straw to observe.

Brielle set to work immediately, rubbing her mare down as she informed the beast all about the king's arrival, the welcoming feast, and her most unexpected betrothal. Out of the three, the young woman spent the most time venting her frustrations about her upcoming marriage and future husband.

"I still can hardly fathom it, Mist," Brielle whispered to the mare, trying to stop any passing stable boys from overhearing her words. "I've accepted my fate to marry the lion, there's nothing I can do to change that, but it is somewhat hard to believe. I'm no one of real consequence, after all. However, Uncle told me the king is amused by how much this match has enraged the queen." Her forehead creased as her mouth turned down at the thought. "I can't help but feel somewhat used knowing that small fact."

Mist said nothing, merely continued to munch on her hay and enjoy the feeling of the brush running through her coat. Brielle was silent for a time, her thoughts now turning fully to Jaime Lannister.

"I can admit he is quite handsome. A golden lion, to be sure." Brielle huffed in exasperation. "Yet I want nothing more than to take up Ice and stab him through the gut. I doubt Uncle would let me. It'd be a mighty disservice to such a great sword."

"And it wouldn't be a disservice to me? I'm appalled to hear you think so little of my life, little wolf."

A small gasp of escaped Brielle as her head whipped around to the stall's entrance. There, in all his smug and golden glory, stood the knight who was responsible for all of her problems. What she began to believe was his trademark smirk was already splitting Jaime's lips. It seemed as if his face knew no other expression than this, except for that of boredom. Her eyes had already witnessed both far too many times over the course of a single day.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, Jaime smirking at her surprise while Brielle attempted to come up with something witty or at the very least biting to say in response. However, her mind had drawn a blank.

Giving up on trying to defend her words, Brielle finally opted for a simple greeting. "Ser Jaime."

The corner of his lips twitched at that while his eyes almost looked disappointed in her reaction. "Lady Brielle. Although, it is only lady because your uncle managed to convince his dear old friend the king to make you legitimate. If he hadn't, it'd still be Brielle Snow, wouldn't it?"

He was trying to goad a reaction out of her, just as he had with his words about the North and Jon last night. Unfortunately for him, what he said was nothing Brielle was not already keenly aware of. Furthermore, he had no way of knowing his future wife would have very much preferred to remain a Snow.

She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to continue brushing Mist, who pointedly ignored the knight leaning against her stall door. "If that were the case, then you and I would not be about to marry. A fate I think you have demonstrated clearly enough how very much you wish to avoid."

Brielle did not look at the lion to see how her words affected him, but she doubted she spoke anything that was not true. His actions and words so far were proof enough of his displeasure at their betrothal. It took a night and hours of contemplation in the godswood for the she-wolf to realize that was all this was. He did not want to leave the Kingsguard. He did not want to marry her. So, he would be taunting and cruel in his own way, making it clear to all just how he felt about their future together. Well, two could play that game and Brielle had no plans to allow her husband to think he could act in such a disrespectful manner toward her, no matter the fact she shared his feelings on the match. They were stuck in this together. The sooner he realized it the better for them both. They would make something good of this marriage, even if it was only friendship or at the very least common curtesy and respect that they could have between them.

"And are you so desperate to marry and become a lioness, little wolf?" He asked with heavy sarcasm.

Brielle dropped the brush into its bucket, then patted Mist's neck one more time before turning to face the southern knight. His green eyes were alight with some sort of emotion the young woman could not identify.

"I have no desire to marry any man. Or leave the North for that matter. Winterfell is my home and it always will be," she told him, her voice strong and clear. "However, I am a woman of noble birth, despite the circumstances surrounding it. What I want has no significance to the king, who is free to promise my hand to whomever he chooses should he desire to. As it happens, he has chosen you. I may not like this match, Ser, but I am not going to try sabotaging any hope for some kind of relationship between us simply because I am being denied the freedom to choose my own fate."

Surprisingly, Jaime did not have something clever to say waiting on his lips. He simply stared at her, his smirk replaced by an almost solemn expression and his brow furrowed. It was so out of place, Brielle could hardly fathom what she was seeing.

At last he spoke, this time with a tone of voice unlike any he had used with her before. "You really are quite something else, you know that, little wolf? Such a pity. Those of the South will swallow you whole and spit whatever's left of you back out."

If not for his tone, Brielle would have taken offense at Jaime's words. However, she realized in that moment that the knight before her seemed to pity the fate he believed she would face once they left the North.

 _He does not think I am strong enough, that somehow I will be taken in and destroyed by the South's falseness._ The barest of concern he exhibited in that moment surprised Brielle more than she could say. But she believed it misplaced. _How easily he forgets I am already very aware of the dangers awaiting me._

"You pity me needlessly, Ser Jaime. Leaving Winterfell for Starfall when I was ten provided quite the education," she reminded him. "Regardless of it, I wouldn't pity the lone wolf just yet. I am a lot stronger than I appear, I can promise you that."

The smirk was back, this time his voice taking on a condescending tone. "Yes, I'm quite sure you are. Forgive me for doubting you, my lady. You'll have to demonstrate your _strength_ to me when we cross swords." He cocked his head to the side, contemplating her. "Though I doubt you'll last longer than five minutes in the ring, I'll still humor your challenge, little wolf. If only so you may feel that you've tried to defend the honor of the noble House Stark."

 _He's taunting you, let it go_. Brielle had to remind herself of this with some difficulty. He'd only grow more amused if she lost her temper. It was certainly not a very common thing to be sure, but her family, Theon, and the residents of Winterfell could all attest to what a scary sight it was to behold. Hers was a cold, biting, and often quiet rage, making her at times as unforgiving as the northern climate. And while Brielle was one for decency, those responsible for igniting her rage could be sure of some kind of retribution, very often in a rather underhanded way. It was perhaps the one thing she had learned a little too well during her stay in Dorne. Time visiting with House Martell at Sunspear certainly had added to that part of her education. Thankfully, she had her uncle's teachings to balance it.

Brielle looked Jaime boldly in the eyes, her violet orbs igniting in challenge. "Then I suppose I should not waste anymore of your time, Ser. I will meet you in the training yard momentarily, if it pleases you, with sword in hand."

The lion's smirk only grew, his green eyes alight with dancing amusement. "I await your arrival with baited breath, my lady."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Ned Stark left Robert's quarters with an exhausted sigh, having just announced he would accept the offer to be named Hand of the King. His mind was troubled by the entire affair, especially with Lysa Arryn's accusations from the previous evening still circulating his head. The Lannisters killed Jon Arryn if Lysa was to be believed. They plotted against the king. And now, by the king's command, he was forced to give away his precious niece to these lions, a girl he loved as his own daughter.

Even before Lysa's message, Ned could feel nothing but despair and a deep burning rage over the forced alliance. He had no desire to be connected to House Lannister in anyway, especially through those of his blood. The old memory of the massacred bodies of Elia Martell and her children were one of many reasons he wished for the betrothal to be ended. What if Tywin Lannister would do something similar to Brielle once she had proved no longer useful to him? Ned could not imagine the Old Lion to be happy in anyway over this marriage. And then there were the Kingslayer's actions at the very end of the Rebellion, when he stabbed Aerys Targaryen in the back. The man had no honor. Doubtlessly, Jaime Lannister would have no problem forsaking his vows to Brielle as he had those to the king, and that was not a man Ashara's daughter deserved. He could not imagine her mother approving of such a man. Nor Jaime's old comrade, Arthur Dayne.

Ned's brief words with the lion last night at the feast certainly had not warmed him anymore toward the impending marriage either. The man was even more arrogant and condescending than the last time Ned had seen him. The Lord of Winterfell worried for his niece. However, Ned knew Brielle was strong. She'd had to be after the many years of holding the station of a bastard.

The fact it had taken so long for Cat to agree to his petitioning Robert to make the girl legitimate still bothered him. To an extent, Ned understood his wife's reluctance. Brielle was a constant reminder of Brandon's betrayal, just as Jon was of his. And, despite her denials, Ned could tell Cat feared the possibility of Brielle trying to challenge Robb's inheritance. If Brielle were a man Ned would have certainly shared his wife's concern. The horror and violence of the Blackfrye Rebellions came to mind. However, he knew his niece. That girl would die for any of her cousins. The desire to govern the North did not exist in her heart. But to appease his wife, a stipulation was added to Brielle's legitimacy; neither she nor her children could ever inherit Winterfell unless all of his children and their descendants were to die.

It was small comfort to know House Lannister could never get theirs hands on Winterfell. After all, they still would have his beloved niece.

Suddenly, Jory Cassel called out to him. Ned turned to face the man and was immediately on edge. His captain of the guard appeared to be quite distressed.

"What is it, Jory?" he asked.

"Please, my lord, you must hurry to the training yard," Jory beseeched him. "Lady Brielle is crossing swords with Ser Jaime. She challenged him for a remark made against the honor of your House. And she refused to listen to Rodrick when he tried to put a stop to it."

Ned was already walking with all haste before Jory could finish. The younger man kept pace with his lord as they made their way to the training yard. Once outside, they could easily see the crowd of Stark, Baratheon, and Lannister men formed around the ring. Somehow, the sound of clashing steel managed to cut through the cheering and jeering of the men. As he broke through the crowd, Ned spotted Robb, Jon, and Theon on the other side of the ring, a mesmerized Arya clinging to his eldest. Even Tyrion Lannister was watching, a queer look on his overly large head. Finally, Ned's eyes latched onto the sparring individuals. He could hardly look away from the sight.

He knew Jaime Lannister's skills, but this was almost a mockery. The man was toying with Brielle. Any experienced swordsman could see it. However, Brielle was also toying with her opponent. How did Ned know this? She was using her left hand. If he didn't fear the possible repercussions from this fight, the lord of Winterfell would have been amused by his niece's gall.

Before Ned could put an end to this foolishness, a strong hand fell on his shoulder.

"Don't even think about it, Ned," Robert warned. "I've heard enough talk about the girl having some skill with a blade. I want to see how she fairs against the Kingslayer. Who knows? Might even help him grow a fancy to her." The king laughed at that.

Ned shook his head. "Your Grace, please. You can't-"

"I can and I am," he snapped. "Dammit Ned, just let it play out."

The added pressure on his shoulder ordered Ned to concede, which he begrudgingly did. He loved Robert like a brother, but Ned hated the man's use of his power in that moment.

The lord of Winterfell looked back to the ring and felt his heart almost stop. For he saw the moment when the match was no longer a game to the Kingslayer. This fight was now very, very real.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

 _Finally!_

Brielle felt relief and excitement when Jaime stopped toying with her. She could see the moment everything changed, when he decided to put an end to this mockery of a fight. Gone were the incessant taunts, replaced with killer silence. However, the she-wolf was more than ready for him.

With a sudden fluidity not yet seen by any of their southern guests, Brielle changed sword hands, allowing her more dominate side to take over. She noted, with pure delight, Jaime's momentary surprise before his eyes hardened. Then, he lunged.

They danced with each other like never before. Brielle reveled in the rush thrumming through her blood. She imagined she was meeting the Jaime Lannister her legendary uncle had known. This version was still arrogant, there was no question about that, but he was controlled, strategizing and analyzing his opponent for the next move. His eyes watched her with predatory intent.

A small smirk played at Brielle's lips in triumph. This was the man she had wanted to meet, to speak with about those from long ago and have a chance to learn about. For she would come to know him, just as Jaime would learn about her. Brielle was not a weak wolf to be devoured by the traps of the South or ravenous lions. She was strong, cunning, and patient. She knew when to strike and when to wait. It was with a heavy heart that, despite her dislike of the sigil, Brielle already knew she would make a great lioness.

Time passed as they each parried, thrust, swung, and ducked from different blows. Yet Brielle could not have said how long they fought. Nor could she say what words the crowd shouted around them. All she could concentrate on was the warrior in front of her, watching her body and sword closely with those piercing green eyes.

Unfortunately, the fight was dragging on. Brielle could feel the first signs of exhaustion starting to take hold. Her hands and arms ached from catching Jaime's powerful blows, the controlled strength behind each strike astounding. If not for the amount of years spent training, her build, and her height, Brielle knew the southern knight would have bested her easily. But this wolf would not go down without a fight. Her future husband would know her strength. And he would respect her, the woman he was to marry.

Sweat dripped down her face, cheeks reddened by the cold and exertion. As she rapidly blinked to clear her vision from the droplets running into her eyes, Brielle barely managed to stop Jaime's sword from finding her neck. She struggled to hold him from advancing, his sword and hers battling for dominance. His face was inches from hers, his eyes blazing into her violet orbs.

"Yield, little wolf," he demanded of her in a sharp whisper.

Those words finally succeeded where all of the lion's previous taunts had failed. Brielle felt her blood begin to boil in rage, her anger rising at his audacity. After all this time, after everything she had done, he still looked down upon her. He truly believed her to be weak.

 _The wolf will never yield to the lion!_

"No!" She growled, shoving Jaime back with a surge of unknown strength. From there, the she-wolf attacked. Brielle was finished with his arrogance, with his belief in her own insignificance. How dare he?! She was Brielle of the Houses Stark and Dayne, a force to be reckoned with in her own right. And he _**would**_ recognize that, even if she had to beat it daily into his obnoxiously thick head.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Jaime held his own against the girl's onslaught, but he could not mask his surprise at the strength which returned to her blows. He'd thought her nearly spent a moment ago. Now, he felt a tendril of uncertainty. Could the wolf actually beat the lion?

No, he wouldn't allow it.

Jaime fought back with equal fury, meeting each blow with a greater fervor. It was the first fight in ages he'd felt even a moment of doubt. Yet even with that, Jaime reveled in their unexpectedly long exchange. After all, he couldn't remember the last time a fight in the training yard made him feel so alive. They parried, thrust, blocked, and spun around each other. There truly seemed to be no end. Suddenly, there was an opening and Jaime took it. His sword moved forward with great strength, aimed for a finishing stroke—

And just like that, it was all over. There they stood, swords at each other's throats and an eerie silence fallen over the crowd. Jaime and Brielle breathed in unison, their chests rising and falling from exhaustion as Lannister green bore into haunting violet with great intensity. A draw. The little wolf had managed to bring the fight to a draw. And her eyes were smiling, shining bright with withheld excitement. It dawned on Jaime then. The girl felt it too, these feelings of pure exhilaration and disbelief. In that moment a strange jarring sensation spread throughout the knight's body. He did not know what it was; only that he was left more confused than ever before.

Suddenly, a lone clapping broke the heavy silence. Both golden and raven black heads turned to look at the source. There stood Tyrion, eyes shining bright and smiling in wonder, as he clapped at the outcome. Slowly, others joined in while the sound of applause and shouts of excitement and disbelief became almost deafening. Each fighter lowered their weapon and took a step back. Brielle looked at their audience, almost mesmerized at the praise she received. For a woman who did not like to be the center of attention, this was one instance where it was obvious she reveled in it. And Jaime could only look at his future wife with his own sense of wonder. This was the woman he was to marry: strong, passionate, clever….and kind. Her words to her cousin from last night floated through his mind. What sort of woman was she, truly? Jaime cast his eyes back to the crowd, scanning the many faces, but not really seeing any. Then, he tilted his head up towards the walkway balconies and that is when he saw her.

Cersei stared down at the training yard with such fury that Jaime almost believed he would erupt into flames. His twin's eyes were roaring with an intensity that burned him even from this distance. He felt a sliver of unease make its way down his spine as her gaze shifted to the woman mere feet from his side. Then, Cersei turned and she was gone.

One thing became very clear to Jaime in that moment. His sister truly feared she would lose him. On the trip along the Kings Road, he had quelled her fears, but now it was all for naught. Cersei would try to hurt Brielle, physically, mentally, or both. And Jaime couldn't allow it. He still may not want to marry the girl, but Brielle had proven herself to him, at least here in this ring, that the niece of Ser Arthur Dayne was worthy of his respect. And protection.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 **A/N:** To my fellow Princess Bride lovers out there—yes, I thought of Westley and Inigo's duel while writing their fight. And yes, for anyone wondering, Brielle is fairly ambidextrous. However, her right hand is a little more dominant and her preferred hand to use for sword fighting.


End file.
